The War Of The Lance (35 page)

“If Paladine's given you to know the knight has a secret, why doesn't Paladine just tell
you what the damn secret is?” Tanis asked, and he sounded a bit testy. He gets put out at
the gods sometimes.

Laurana cleared her throat and gave him one of Those Looks that married people give each
other sometimes. One reason I've never been married myself.

“Paladine has done so,” said Lady Crysania with a smile.

And you may believe this or not, but she turned her head and looked straight at me, even
though she couldn't see me and she couldn't have had any idea that I was in the room for I
was being as quiet as the time I accidentally turned myself into a mouse.

“Tasslehoff!” Tanis said, and he didn't sound at all pleased. “Do you know anything about
this?”

“Me?” I asked, looking around. I didn't think it likely he could have been talking to any
other Tasslehoff, but I could always hope.

He meant me, however.

“Yeeessss,” I said, drawing out the word a long time, as long as possible, and not looking
at him. I don't like it when he looks so stern. “But I promised not to tell.”

Tanis sighed. "All right, Tas. You promised not to

tell. Now I'm certain you must have told this story a dozen times since then so it won't
hurt if you tell it - "

“No, Tanis.” I interrupted him, which was not very po lite, but he truly had it all wrong.
I looked up at him and I was extremely solemn and serious. “I haven't told. Not ever. Not
anyone. I promised, you see.”

He stared at me real hard. Then his eyes crinkled. He looked worried. Kneeling down, he
put his hand on my shoulder. “You haven't told anyone?”

“No, Tanis,” I said, and for some reason a tear slid out of my eye. “I never have. I
promised him I wouldn't.”

“Promised who?” “Fizban,” I said. Tanis groaned. (I told you, he always groans when I

mention FB.) “I, too, know,” said a voice unexpectedly. And at this we all turned to look
at Theros. And he

was as grim and dour and stern as I've ever seen Theros, who is usually quite nice, even
if he does pick me up by the topknot sometimes, which isn't at all dignified.

“Sir Owen Glendower and I have discussed it between ourselves, often, each looking for his
own truth. I have found mine. And I thought he had found his. Perhaps I was wrong. It- is
not for me to tell his tale, however. If he had wanted it told, he would have done so
before now.”

“But surely,” Tanis said, growing more irritated than ever, “if the man's life is at stake
. . .”

“I can tell you nothing,” Theros said. “I wasn't there.” He turned and stalked out of the
Upper Gallery.

Which left me. You see, I WAS there.

“C'mon, Tas,” said Caramon in that wheedling way of his that makes me feel like I'd like
to hit him sometimes. “You can tell me.”

“I promised not to tell anyone,” I said. They were all standing around me now, and I had
never in my life felt more miserable, except maybe when I was in the Abyss. “I promised
Fizban I wouldn't.”

Tanis started to get red in the face and he would have yelled at me for sure but two
things - a sneeze and Laurana digging her elbow into his ribs - put a stop to it. I didn't
even remember to give him his handkerchief, I was so unhappy.

Lady Crysania came over to me and put out her hand

and touched me. Her touch was soft and gentle. I wanted to run into her arms and cry like
a big baby. I didn't, because that wouldn't have been dignified for a kender my age and a
hero, to boot, but I wanted to, most desperately.

“Tas,” she said to me, “how did you happen to come here?”

I thought that was a strange question, since I was invited, so I told her about the
sausages and the jail and the message and the invitation from Fizban.

Tanis groaned and sneezed again.

“Don't you see, Tasslehoff?” asked Lady Crysania. “It was Fizban who sent you here. You
know who Fizban really is, don't you?”

“I know who he THINKS he is,” I said, because Raistlin told me once that he wasn't really
certain himself if the wacky old wizard was telling the truth or not. “Fizban thinks he's
the god Paladine.”

“Whether he is or he isn't” - Lady Crysania smiled again - “he sent you here for a reason,
you may be sure. I think he wants you to tell us the story.”

“Do you?” I asked hopefully. “I'd like to, because it's been weighing on my mind.”

I handed Tanis his handkerchief and gave the matter some thought. “But you don't know that
for sure, Lady Crysania,” I said, starting to feel miserable again. “I'm always NOT doing
the right thing. I wouldn't want to not do the right thing now.”

I thought some more. “But I wouldn't want Sir Owen to die either.”

I had an idea. “I know! I'll tell you all the secret, then you can tell me whether or not
I should tell anyone. And if you say I shouldn't, then I won't.”

“But Tas, if you tell us - ” Caramon began.

At which point Laurana gave him a nudge on one side and Tanis gave him a nudge on the
other, so that Caramon coughed and was all sort of nudged out, I guess, because he didn't
say anymore.

“I think that is very wise,” said Lady Crysania, and she said she wanted to keep near Owen
Glendower, so we all followed her. There weren't any chairs. We sat down on the floor in a
circle, with Lady Crysania keeping beside Owen and everyone else around her and me
opposite.

And it was there, sitting on the floor next to Owen

Glendower, stretched out in his armor on the fur cloaks, that I told the story I had sworn
by my topknot I would never, ever, ever tell.

I took hold of my topknot and held it fast, because I thought this might be the last time
I'd ever see it.

Well, I'm certain you must remember the part in the old story where most of us went to the
Silver Dragon Mountain. There was me and Flint and Laurana and her brother Gilthanas and
Theros Ironfeld and Silvara, the silver dragon, except we didn't know she was a silver
dragon then.

Silvara took us to the Silver Dragon Mountain on purpose to find the dragonlances and to
tell us how to forge them. But once we got there, she began to have second thoughts about
telling us, because of the oath the good dragons had taken.

It's all very complicated and doesn't have anything much to do with my story, but it sets
the scene for you, so speak. While we were inside Huma's Tomb, Silvara cast a spell on
everyone, except she missed me, because I was hiding under a shield. I went to get help
for my friends, who were under her sleep spell, and I got sucked up inside the Silver
Dragon Mountain. And it was there that I found Fizban, who was dead. Only he wasn't.

I brought him down, and he had a talk with Silvara. It was after that talk that she
decided to tell everyone who she was really. And she led Theros Ironfeld to the pool of
dragonmetal that would be used to forge the lances. Only that comes later. Where I'm
starting now is the part right after Fizban had the talk with Silvara. He'd decided that
he had to leave.

“Good-bye, good-bye,” Fizban told us. We were all inside Huma's Tomb, in the Silver Dragon
Mountain. “Nice seeing you again. I'm a bit miffed about the chicken feathers” - (I could
explain that part but it would take too long. Astinus has it written down in his
Chronicles2.) - “but no hard feelings.”

Then Fizban glared at me.

“Are you coming?” he demanded. “I haven't got all night.”

The chance to travel with a wizard! Especially a dead wizard! I couldn't pass it up.
(Though I guess he wasn't really dead but none of us were sure of that at the time,
especially Fizban.)

“Coming? With you!” I cried.

I was all excited and would have left right then and there, but it occurred to me that if
I left, who would look out for everyone else in the group? (If I had known then that
Silvara was really a silver dragon, I wouldn't have felt so bad, but I didn't.) I had no
idea what sort of trouble my friends would get into without me. Especially Flint, my best
friend, the dwarf.

Flint was truly a wonderful person and had many good qualities, but - since I have to be
honest - I thought he lacked a bit in the common-sense line. He was constantly getting
into trouble and it was me who was always having to drag him out.

But Fizban promised me that Flint and the rest of my friends would be fine without me and
that we'd see them again in Famine Time, which was coming up soon. So I grabbed my pack
and my pouches and off Fizban and I went together on an adventure.

An adventure that I never told anyone about until now.

THE STORY I NEVER TOLD

“Where are we going?” I asked Fizban, after we'd left Huma's Tomb far, far behind us.

The wizard was moving in a tremendous hurry, huffing and puffing and stomping down the
trail, his arms flying, his hat pulled low over his forehead, his staff thumping the
ground.

2 DRAGONS OF AUTUMN TWILIGHT, Dragonlance Chronicles, Volume 1.

“I don't know,” he said fiercely, and walked faster than ever.

This struck me as a bit odd. I mean, I've set off on journeys to places that I didn't know
precisely where I was going but I never rushed to get there. I took my time. Enjoyed the
scenery. Which is maybe why we were

traveling so fast, because at that point there wasn't much scenery to enjoy. We hadn't
gone very far when - smack - we walked right into Foghaven Vale.

I suppose you're wondering about that SMACK sound. Maybe you think SQUISH might be more
appropriate for talking about walking into fog. Or perhaps WHOOSH. But I thought “smack”
at the time because that's what it felt like. Smack into a gray-white wall of fog. It was
thick. Extremely thick. I know because I held my hand up to my face and walked right into
it myself. I wondered if the fog had thickened up on purpose in our honor.

“Drat!” said Fizban, waving his arms. “Get out of my way! Can't see a confounded thing.
What's the meaning of this? No respect for the aged! Absolutely none at all.”

He stood there waving his arms and shouting at the fog. I watched a while as best I could
for not being able to see him all that well. But it seemed to me that the more he shouted
the thicker the fog got - sort of an “I'll Show You, Old Man!” type of reaction. And my
topknot was soaking wet and dripping water down the back of my shirt, and my shoes were
slowly filling up with oozing muck - all of which was very entertaining for a while, but
soon lost a lot of its charm.

“Fizban,” I said, going up to tug on his sleeve.

I guess I startled him, coming up on him suddenly out of the fog like that.

At any rate, he apologized very handsomely for hitting me on the nose with his staff and
helped pick me up out of the muck and patted my head until it quit ringing. And we thought
at first my nose was broken, then decided it wasn't and when the bleeding stopped, we
started on our way again.

We walked and we walked. Finally, Fizban said he thought the fog had let up considerably.
The result, he said, of a marvelous spell he'd cast on it. I didn't think it was polite to
contradict him and besides I could almost sort of see the grass under my feet if I bent
down and looked for it, so I figured he must be right. But we slowed our pace quite a bit,
especially after Fizban walked BLAM into the tree.

It was either right before or right after he set the tree on fire that we came to Huma's
Tomb.

It was daylight now. (We'd spent the night getting

here.) The fog lifted just enough for us to see where we were, which I thought was quite
sneaky of the fog. Almost like it was laughing at us.

I must tell you I was somewhat disappointed to see Huma's Tomb again. Not that it isn't a
wonderful place. It is. Huma's Tomb, for those who haven't made the pilgrimage there, is
really a temple. It is rectangular in shape and made out of black rock that Flint called
obsidian. The outside is carved all over with knights fighting dragons and it is a very
solemn and reverent place.

Inside is Huma's bier where they laid his body to rest. And his shield and sword are still
there, but his body isn't. The Tomb is sad because it makes you think about your life and
how you wish you'd done things better. But it's a good kind of sad because you realize
that there's still the rest of your life for you to change and make better.

That was how I felt when I FIRST saw Huma's Tomb, but now maybe all the fog was making it
look different. All I felt now was the kind of sad that doesn't make you feel good inside.

“Ah, ha I” Fizban shouted. “I know where I am.” “Huma's Tomb,” I said. “No!” He was
thunderstruck. "Didn't we just leave

here?“ ”Yes. We must have been walking in circles. Maybe

I'll go say good-bye to Flint, while I'm here," I said, and started to climb the stairs.

“No, no,” Fizban said quickly, grabbing hold of me. “They're not there. All gone inside
the Silver Dragon Mountain. Silvara's taken them to the magical pool of dragonmetal, used
to forge the magical dragonlances. Come along. We have other fish to fry.”

Well, I had to admit that the temple did look dark and deserted now. And fried fish
sounded good. So we set out.

We hadn't taken two steps before the fog came back, only this time it was mixed with smoke
from the smoldering tree and I couldn't see the grass beneath my feet. I couldn't see my
feet.

We walked and walked and walked and stopped and rested and ate dinner. We began to walk
again and Fizban told me what a marvelous tracker he was, much better than Riverwind, and
how he (Fizban) never ever got lost and

how he always kept the wind on his right cheek so moss wouldn't grow on his north side.
And then we came to Huma's Tomb. The second time.

“Ah! ha!” cried Fizban, charging out of the fog, and stubbed his toe on the stairs leading
up to the temple.

When he saw where we were (for the second time), he shouted. “You again!” He scowled and
shook his fist at the temple. And he kicked the stairs with the same toe he used to bump
into them.

Fizban hopped around on one foot and yelled at the stairs, which was fun to watch for a
while, but must have got pretty boring later on because the next thing I knew I was asleep.

What I mean to say is that the next thing I knew I was awake, but I must have fallen
asleep in order to have woken up, mustn't I? I think I slept for a considerable length of
time because I was all stiff and sore from lying on the slick, black stairs, and I was wet
and cold and hungry.

“Fizban?” I said. He wasn't there. I felt sort of creepy, maybe because the Tomb was

sort of creepy. My stomach twisted up, because I was afraid something might have happened
to Fizban and, to be honest, this fog was starting to make my skin shiver, as Flint would
say. Then I heard him snore. (Fizban.) He was sleeping on the grass with his injured foot
propped up on a step and his hat over it (his foot).

I was very glad to see him and guess I startled him, waking him up suddenly with a yell
like that. He apologized for letting off the fireball, and we were able to have a hot
breakfast, due to the fact that another tree was burning. He said that my eyebrows would
grow back any day.

After breakfast, off we went again - Fizban with his foot wrapped up in a dish towel I'd
found in my pouch. We walked around in the fog for I forget how long except I remember
eating again and sleeping again and then we came to Huma's Tomb.

For the third time.

I don't mean to offend any knights when I say this, but I was beginning to be a little
bored at the sight of it.

“This does it,” Fizban muttered, and he started to roll

up his sleeves. “Follow us, will you!” “I don't think it's following us,” I pointed out,
and I'm

afraid I spoke pretty sharp. “I think we're following it!” “No!” Fizban looked amazed.
Then confused. "Do

you think so?“ ”Yes," I snapped, wondering if my eyebrows would

truly grow back and wishing I could see what I looked like without them. In fact, I was
wishing I could see anything, besides Huma's Tomb and fog and burning trees.

“Then you don't think I should let loose with a real rip-snorter of a spell and blow it
sky high?” he asked, in a kind of wistful tone.

“I don't think the knights would like that,” I pointed out testily. “And you know how they
can be.”

(No offense. I don't mean all knights. Just some knights.)

“Besides,” I continued, “Huma might come back and be really put out to find that someone
blew up his Tomb while he was gone. And I can't say that I'd blame him.”

“No, I suppose not,” said Fizban, unhappily. “Maybe I could just blow up the stairs?”

“How will Huma get up to the door if the stairs are gone?”

“I see your point.” Fizban heaved a sigh.

“You know, Fizban,” I said sternly (I decided I had to be stern), “this has been a lot of
fun. Really. It's not everyday I get my nose almost broken and both my eyebrows singed off
and watch you set fire to two trees and see Huma's Tomb in the fog three times (four for
me) but I think we've done just about everything exciting there is to do around here. It's
time to move on. WHEREVER IT IS WE'RE GOING.” I said the last words in an extra firm tone,
hoping he'd take the hint.

Fizban muttered around awhile and did a few magic tricks that were kind of interesting,
like shooting off some white and purple stars. He asked me how I liked that one and would
I like to see some more?

I said no.

Then he got real flustered and took off his hat and took off the dish towel from around
his hurt foot and put his hat back on, only he put it on his foot and put the dish towel
over his head.

Suddenly he said, “I've got it! A spell - ”

“Wait! Not yet!” I cried, jumping up and covering my face with my hands.

“A spell that will take us right where we want to go!” he shouted triumphantly. “Here,
grab hold of my sleeve. Hang on tight, there's a good lad. Keep your hand out of my pouch.
Wizard-stuff in there. And some rather fine liverwurst. Ready? Here we go!”

Well, I thought. Finally! At last!

I grabbed hold of Fizban's sleeve and he spoke some words that sounded like spiders
crawling around inside my head. Everything went blurry and I heard a sound like wind
blowing in my ears.

And when I opened my eyes, there we were. Inside Huma's Tomb.